


such permanence is terrifying

by felixfvlicis



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-13
Updated: 2012-09-13
Packaged: 2017-11-14 04:01:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/511087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felixfvlicis/pseuds/felixfvlicis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Episode tag to 2x10, 'High Noon'.  It's Harvey who shows up to offer Mike his support at Grammy's funeral, not Tess.  I do not own the characters or the plot (though I wish I were as brilliant).</p>
            </blockquote>





	such permanence is terrifying

As Mike shuffled into the nursing home with bloodshot eyes, a wrinkled waistcoat and Rachel a constant at his side, an aching familiarity shot through his system. Memories of brisk walks through these halls when he was still entwined with Trevor, a constant push-and-pull. After Harvey had hired him, saved him, his visits to Grammy grew more widespread. Slowly, the guilt settled in his ribcage and then, it began to bleed over into his consciousness -- it's part of the reason why he bought the apartment for her. "I can't. I can't do this, Rachel." Mike was completely exasperated, covering his face with his left hand, as if somehow the physicality of it would erase the events of the past two days completely. No matter how tightly he shut his eyes and clenched his fists, his lead feet kept him stuck in the in-between. Rachel studied him with concern, thinking of anything she could offer -- the words forming on her lips as he interjected, barely audible, "they didn't even know her". She sighed, starting, "You're not doing it for them, Mike. You're doing it for you," she finished, glassy-eyed, catching sight of someone approaching, looking past Mike completely.

"Mike." His voice was even as he approached, laying a firm hand on his right shoulder. Mike turned his head, but kept his body facing the forward. "Harvey? W-what are you doing here? Why, h-how did you--" he stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence. Harvey tipped his head to Rachel in acknowledgement, offering warmth that she was sure wasn't meant for her, his body parallel to Mike's. "C'mon, kid." Harvey said his voice tight as he led him away from the room, towards the doors. Mike followed, grateful for the reprieve, but panicked. He looked up at Harvey through his sagging, vacant lids, expectantly, "I don't know what I'm doing. I don't want to be here. This cannot be happening, there's no way I can say anything to these people that--” He was talking a mile a minute, his movements were strained, like it hurt just to be. Harvey pressed his palm against Mike's sternum, trying to bring him back to reality, his voice almost a whisper, "Tell me about her."

Mike slumped against the wall, unaware that Harvey's hand was still firmly planted on his chest, until he tried to subconsciously twist out of his touch. His skin felt so foreign and stretched thin, like he could claw at himself and the layers would just peel off, and there'd be nothing left but a thin veil of air -- he'd be nothing. He thought of Trevor and Jenny, of every person that had used him since his parents died. Those people, even his closest friends, made him feel so insignificant. All he ever wanted to do was knock himself into a different life, to be the kind of son that his parents loved and raised him to be. The kid who laughed a little funny when something was really, really funny. Or the kid who was never good at sports, but was encouraged by his parents to take hold of his other gifts—his smarts, wit, and huge heart. The only people who had seen him, the only people who got it, were Grammy and Harvey. Harvey. Harvey was standing in front of him, looking at him with a mix of regret and understanding. He moved his hand from his chest and placed the other gently on his shoulder as if to bring him back to the present.

Something in Mike broke. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, winced, let out a shaky huff of air and began, "Do you remember when I told you that maybe it was time I started trusting somebody else?" Mike swallowed, fixing his gaze on the knot in Harvey's tie, afraid to look at him. Harvey nodded, and Mike could feel it. The empathy was oozing out of Harvey, and if Mike hadn't felt so goddamn broken, he would have been more surprised. "The only other person I've trusted since my parents died, if I'm being honest, is--was--Grammy. She never looked at me with shame or sympathy. She was my biggest supporter and the most honest person in my life. She didn't treat me like I was someone to be fixed, and she always told me that I was going to be okay. 'You've got so many gifts, Michael', she used to say--" he swallowed thickly, his eyes were watering. "She used to say," he sighed, "that you were good for me, that you saved me from that Trevor bastard, and that you could see me, like she did.” Harvey chuckled, with a slight smile, "She really called him a bastard, huh?" Mike nodded.

"Mike. Look at me." Slowly, he lifted his gaze and for a split second, catching the look of sadness behind Harvey's eyes. "Tell those people in there what you just told me. That's what you say. You don't have to justify your feelings. This is not a courtroom. Just say what you feel. Whether you know it or not, Mike, she knew that you loved her, and she loved you. So much. When you speak, imagine you're speaking to her, okay?" Mike unclenched his jaw as Harvey squeezed his right shoulder, not realizing that he was holding his breath. He closed his eyes for a beat, exhaled and pushed his body forward, leaning into Harvey's touch. "Okay." he whispered. Harvey released his hand, turned, and Mike shuffled into step beside him.

As they walked back into the room full of faces, elbows brushing, Mike caught sight of Rachel, and offered her weak smile. Harvey stopped, mid-step, and turned to face Mike. Mike's breath caught, finally coming to, realizing the reality of the situation, his hands shaking slightly. "I'll be right here", Harvey said, motioning Mike to go to the front of the room. Mike managed a nod. The walk felt infinite and his feet couldn't possibly move any faster. Finally, he reached the podium, the shuffling of his feet filled his ears, the room was completely silent. His hands gripped the sides of the fake-wood, white knuckled and all. He looked at the room full of waiting, expectant eyes, and was sure he was dreaming. He swallowed, his mouth was so dry and his throat was tight, squeezing his eyes shut and exhaling a single shaky breath. When he opened them, he was looking straight at Harvey, his earlier words, calming and reassuring, echoed in Mike's mind-- 'Imagine you're speaking to her'. Slowly, he loosened his grip on the podium and began to speak, his eyes never leaving Harvey's. Mike told the story of the night his parents died, and how Grammy had been there for him, telling him that it was okay to be human, that it was okay to cry, because she had been crying, too.

As he recounted snapshots of stories from his life with her, he realized that, maybe, he wasn't really alone anymore, because more than an hour later, it was Harvey who hadn't left his side and more importantly, it was Harvey who helped him pack up Grammy's belongings -- who listened to Mike offer diminutive, intimate details on almost everything they packed up in boxes, to be filed away into Mike's memory forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from 'First Poem for You' by Kim Addonizio.


End file.
